Yu-Hon's Resolution
by kryliadarr
Summary: Yu-Hon learns of his father's plans for the throne. Speculation on past events. Written in first person. May be three-shot.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first one-shot (although I'm considering making it a three-shot), and I don't typically write in the first person, so constructive criticism is appreciated. Just a possible take on past events. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

I galloped blindly across the fields, the sword at my hip a familiar weight. I needed to get out, away from people. I could not afford to have anyone see me like this.

How _could_ he? Rage and betrayal blinded me, and I needed time to collect myself before facing my family. How could he do this to me? Hadn't I always been the perfect son? Supporting him in his wars, defending his back? And now, because of a _prophecy_ , little Il was going to inherit the throne? Up until today I had never been seriously bothered by my pacifist little brother, but now humiliation choked me. Everyone had been expecting _me_ to be king. I had spent my life listening to their comments, striving to be a fierce warrior, worthy of the throne. I was a hero, loved by the people.

What will I tell them? I wondered. How can I explain to Yong-Hi that Su-Woon would never be King? That all the things that should rightfully have been his, as the only son of the eldest son, were lost? Because of a _prophecy_. I've never liked the Gods. They don't revive my men on the battle field, or spare Yong-Hi the ravages of birth, and their false prophets had been a constant challenge to the throne. False Gods are nothing but false promises, and I have never been able to abide by that. I had driven the priests out years ago, and Father had allowed it, but now their words were tearing us apart.

 _"Yu-Hon," Father said, as I settled across the table. Neither of us touched the tea in front of us, and the servants had all been dismissed. "I have always been very proud of you." I had stared at him, shocked, for my father was never a man given to displays of emotion._

 _"Thank you," I replied with a bow, after a slight pause. Father met my eyes and, after a lengthy silence, continued._

 _"I will not mince words." I nodded, because fancy words were neither needed, nor welcomed between warriors. "Il will be my successor." The world froze as I heard my father's decision. He gave me time, in silence, to reconcile a lifetime's expectations with this abrupt new reality._

 _"Why?" I choked out, barely able to breathe._

 _"My end is near," he said, and it was true, he had been bedridden for months, "and the Gods have been much in my thoughts." I waited because I couldn't find any words to add to that. Did he regret our wars, our victories? "The prophecy of the return of the red King, the red star that shone the evening of Yona-chan's birth, her hair... I believe she must be Hiryuu." Yona? Sure she had red hair, but that was it. She cowered when I entered a room. How could she possible be the brave warrior king reborn? And she was a girl. "I want to leave the kingdom to her." Her? Over my intelligent, accomplished son? "Unfortunately, I will not live long enough to see her on the throne. I will instruct Il to abdicate once she turns eighteen. She will certainly be old enough to rule, by then."_

 _"They could marry," I eventually suggested, trying to salvage the situation for my child. "Su-Won could rule and Yona could live an ideal life in the palace." From what I've seen of the little redhead, she was perfectly happy running around the palace with her toys and fine clothes. Su-Won would still get the place that was rightfully his, and Yona could enjoy a pampered life for as long as she lived. It seemed like a perfect solution, but Father was shaking his head._

 _"If she is Hiryuu, then she must_ rule _once she is of age." That astounded me. Women don't rule. They raise rulers, or marry them, but how could some fragile little girl possibly hold the loyalty of the five Generals? Surely Father could see that they would never accept someone so weak. The resolute look in my father's eyes showed me that no, he did not see that obvious truth._

War Dancer threw his head back and drew me from my thoughts. I looked at the surroundings and realized that I had been out longer than I had planned. The sun was low in the sky and Yong-Hi would send men out to search, if I did not return soon. It was a needless worry on her part, but women are prone to such things, and it came from a loving heart. I am well aware of the treasure I have in a loyal and dutiful wife. It is a pity her health is so fragile, or I would take her with me more; I am proud to have such a wife. Su-Won inherited her good looks and kind heart, but I know he will prove himself on the battlefield when he is of age. He is diligent in his training, and loved by the people. Turning War Dancer around, I headed back to my family. I still had no answers - I could not defy my lord father, even in this - but the ride had allowed me to think.

With the worst of the emotional storm over, I considered my options. My father would not change his mind, I was certain of that. In that, as in so many aspects, we are too much alike. But if he opposed a marriage between Su-Won and Yona, how else could my son hold the throne? An idea rose up in me as I rode closer, the family's secondary residence now in sight, dark and terrible. If I killed Yona, Il would almost certainly step aside for me. He has never been greedy, and the death of his daughter would devastate him. Father would tell him that he was a placeholder King, until Yona came of age. If Yona was dead, then he had no reason to hold the throne. Yona, being a fragile girl, still sleeps with her mother, and their chambers are guarded, but I have more than enough skill to sneak in unnoticed. I debated telling Yong-Hi of my plans. She would support me, I knew, and she would be more familiar with the routines of women and children than I am. If I choose to pursue this route, her information will be valuable. I would have to wait until Father passed. I can't - even now, after his betrayal - find it in me to do something so harmful to him. Besides, he would suspect me and my plans would be for naught. Il has alway been naive; the thought of me attacking his family would never cross his mind.

I spotted Yong-Hi first, sitting outside with Key-Sook, pouring over their books. Key-Sook was truly hopeless with any sort of weapon, but he had a sharp mind and was a great help in organizing their finances and settling disputes between the servants. I heard daily about what a boon he was, even if his arrival had come on the heels of his father's death. The agreement had been that he would work for us until he was experienced enough to gain employment elsewhere, but I know Yong-Hi's expressions well; she is determined to keep the lad. I let my eyes wander away from the pair and found Su-Won walking up the road, and handful of servants behind him, drawing some sort of contraption with them. I almost smiled, wondering what my son had organized this time. The warmth in my chest constricted my lungs as I looked over my most beloved people. Could I do it? Could I kill a child - my own niece - to ensure my son's place in the world?

"Father!" Su-Won greeted, looking up with a warm smile. Yes, I thought, meeting his eyes. For him, I could do that.


	2. Chapter 2

Very sadly, I haven't gotten any follows, favourites, or reviews! I hope those of you who do take the time to read this story, enjoy it, regardless. The next chapter will be from Yong-Hi's perspective. If anyone knows of a discussion thread where people are discussing the prophecy or current arc, could you share? Thanks & enjoy!

* * *

"I am sorry for your loss," I say to my brother. We are walking side by side in the gardens, a thin layer of snow coating the ground. Our footsteps crunch quietly. The first snowfall arrived only days after my attempt on Yona - foiled by her _mother_ , of all people - and I brought my family back to the capital for the funeral rites, as is proper. This is the first chance we have had to speak alone since his wife's passing. I hide my frustration - how could a _woman_ have gotten in my way? - curious to hear what my brother thought of this violence invading his home.

"Yona has been very upset," Il told me, although his bent back and strained eyes spoke of his own grief. "I am glad you are with us now," as I thought, he suspects nothing, "since Su-Won has offered to sleep with Yona to ease her grief." My steps slowed. Su-Won knows nothing of my intentions, for I value his kind heart, and he is too young to learn the harsh realities of the world. He is fond of Yona, I know, but the grief will ease over time and she will be left as nothing but a pleasant childhood memory. Glancing over, I meet my brother's eyes for the first time, and see rage, and grief, and determination in them. He knows, I realize. My blood freezes. I am not afraid for myself; I have faced death many times, but my actions could cost Su-Won and Yong-Hi their lives as well. He has no proof, I tell myself, for I have been very careful. But as his words settle, I realize his intent. He will use Su-Won as Yona's shield; I cannot make a second attempt.

"What do you want?" I ask, my throat dry.

"I despise violence," he replied, as if everyone didn't know that, "but I find that I am prepared to kill to defend my only child." His eyes tell me he is not lying. He intends my death for my attack on Yona. All this, for one foolish little girl.

"No one will believe you," I counter, for I am aware of my reputation. An attack in the dark of night, on a woman? I am a valiant warrior who leads our troops to victory. No one will believe I am responsible for such a cowardly crime. But cowardly or not, all that matters is my family's well-being. People speak only of the Queen's death. They do not realize that she was not the target, but I have nothing to gain by the Queen's death. There is nothing tying me to this.

"I reached my wife before her wounds took her life," Il told me. They had never been close, it was a political marriage, but they had shared a love for their daughter which had united them to some degree. "She did not believe that you intended for her to be the target." I stayed silent, considering my options. The words of a woman on the brink of death, repeated to her husband under such circumstances, could easily be discredited. "I will not allow Yona to be killed."

"No more than I will allow harm to come to Su-Won," I answer, for that, at least, is truth.

"Is it so terrible not to inherit?" He asks. The words bring back my rage. What does he know? He is the second son. He has not carried people's expectations his whole life, or been defined by a role he is never destined to play. Even so, I would give it all up for my son. But how dare they steal the throne not only from me, but from _my son_ as well? That, I cannot forgive. I clench my fists, careful to keep my fury contained.

"Make Su-Won your heir," I suggest, "and there will be no quarrel between us." That will not make tings right between us - the throne should be _mine_ \- but I would accept that much, for my son.

"That is not what our esteemed father wanted," Il countered. What Father wanted meant less and less to me as I saw my family's position fall. People who had courted our favour mere months ago now found other things to occupy their time. We lock gazes, and to my surprise, the fury pushing Il allows him to hold my eyes. I had, honestly, expected him to cower in the face of my rage.

"Then what do you intend, Il?" My question is harsh, but Il does not flinch away from it.

"It is surprising that Yong-Hi had an episode right as the attack on my wife took place." I swallowed the curse in my throat. I should have enquired when she said she would make sure there was no one around. She had not wanted to involve others in our plans, so had thought to draw them away, but her method had certainly drawn attention to herself.

"Yong-Hi is often ill," I tell him. "It is why she spends so little time in the capital."

"And the timing?" Il asks, his anger apparently deepening at my lie.

"An unfortunate coincidence," I answer calmly. "This is not the only time the royal family has been targeted by assassins." I am unwilling to yield anything to my brother.

"Indeed," he agreed, "but this is the first time in decades that an attack has been successful." We stand in silence looking at each other. "Even if I cannot tie you to the crime," Il comments, "I can implicate your wife in the crime." I should not have involved her, I think, but such things are always clearer looking back.

"You will not raise your hand against them," I tell him. He nods. I feel the weight of my death settle over my shoulders. "This cannot be tied to you," I instruct, because even in death I am Kouka's prince.

"Is there a method you would prefer?" Such a cold question from my weak brother, but I appreciate it none the less.

"The sword," I reply, because I've never considered any other death. "A man should live and die by the sword." Not that that had ever applied to my little brother. We stare at each other in silence before Il breaks it.

"A week." His voice is unwavering. "I'll give you a week to say goodbye to your family."

"I can't tell them," I argue. "This must look like an accident."

"Yong-Hi already knows plenty," Il rebuffs, and I can't answer, because it's true.

"If you're doing this for them-" I begin, but Il simply shakes his head.

"I'm doing this for you." Surprise silences me as my brother walks away.


	3. Chapter 3

A very short final chapter from Young-HI's perspective! I hope you like it! Thanks to those who followed, favourited, or reviewed!

* * *

Grief chokes me and bitterness twists inside me. My proud, warrior husband, killed by his own cowardly brother. I had tried to convince Yu-Hon to rise up against his brother - Il has no support and it is impossible to deny that Yu-Hon was more worthy of being King, but he would not be swayed. He called them women's tears and declared himself a warrior. I am left to raise Su-Won alone, and our position as a family, which had fallen when Il was declared heir, has all but vanished with my husband's death. I have few resources and fewer allies. Il will be watching us now, and I must not allow him to take my son, too. My health has deteriorated as a result of my stress, as much rage as grief, and my precious Su-Won's visits are my only solace in this bleak world.

"Mother," he says quietly, opening the door and peering in. Seeing me awake, propped up with pillows, a book untouched in my lap, he enters fully. "How are you feeling?" I smile sadly, for the truth, that I may never recover, will not ease my son's worry; he is such a kind, considerate boy. Yu-Hon and I both took such pride in him. Memories of my two precious men training outside while I watch, bundled up in the garden fill my mind before I return to the somber reality of our loss. "Uncle Il sent flowers for you." Hatred, unchecked and furious burns through me at the words. How _dare_ he? "May I bring them in?"

"No!" I shout, startling my innocent boy. I try to force my emotions back.

"Mother?" He asks cautiously. "Are you unwell?"

"Close the door," I instruct curtly. I have never taken such a tone with my boy, but it is not meant for him. It is for his so-called uncle that has stripped him of everything that should rightfully have been his: first his throne and then his father. Su-Won does as I ask, so honestly confused. "There is something I must tell you." I wonder, as I say the words, if I should really tell him that the father he revered was murdered by the uncle he loves, but his naive trust in Il pushes more words out of my mouth. "Your father did not die in an accident," I tell him, watching shock cover his face.

"But Uncle Il said-" I shake my head sadly.

"A king may say anything, that does not make it truth."

"But why would Uncle Il..." His words slow, then die out entirely, as he makes the connection. He was always a clever boy. He takes my hands, grief staining his face. It pains me to be the one to put that look on his face, but I cannot allow him to continue blindly believing Il. A man who will kill his own brother cannot be trusted; had he been as forgiving as rumours had said, he would have let Yu-Hon live. "Mother," Su-Won chokes out, "did Uncle Il kill Father?"

"Yes," I reply, heartbroken to be the one to tell him.

"Why?" Su-Won is too young to hear the answer to that. Perhaps, when he has children of his own, I will tell him. A parent's motives are not a child's, after all. I offer him a partial truth instead.

"Your father has always been more popular than Il," I explain. "Il was most likely afraid your father would try for the throne." That should have been his in the first place.

"Why? Father told me it was fine; that he would support Uncle Il as king." Had he said that? Well, a man always wants to look good in front of his son.

"Everyone knows that Il is a coward," I say, "and cowards are capable of doing terrible things in the name of peace. He probably believed that your father would start a civil war." And he might have, for his son. A father's pride, after all, is his child. I feel the same. The pride of being Su-Won's mother eclipses any trivial pride I had felt in my youth.

"How did it happen?" I consider how to phrase my answer.

"Il asked to meet your father in the forest. Your father considered the meeting unusual, so told me of it, but went to meet his brother as requested."

"I have heard that Father was stabbed in the back."

"Yes," I confirm. The crime suits the criminal; cowardly and backstabbing to the end. Il has neither honour, nor the capacity, to kill his unresisting brother face to face. I watch my son think, giving him the time he needs to reconcile Il's cheerful, stupid persona with his heartless fratricide.

"What do you want to do, Mother?" The question surprises me and I turn to look at him. His eyes are hard and cold, so different from his warm and affectionate nature.

"I want him dead," I reply, because his pain prevents me from offering anything but the truth. Su-Won looks at me a long moment before nodding.

"I will make sure he dies for you." The words are a promise, one he should be too young to offer, but the facts of his father's death age him before me. I nod, accepting the gift.


End file.
